


brilliance from inside

by Petr1chor



Series: the price of freedom [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mindless Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pining Grantaire (Les Misérables), Slow Burn, Smoking, camp counselors, ish, long conversations, mainly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: I wrote this inspired by a post on tumblr by @cumbercookiebatchs"Enjoltaire camp counselors, accidentally meeting at the lake in the middle of the night because they wanted to sneak a cigarette, then purposely meeting all the other nights."Grantaire and Enjolras meet, talk and fall in love under the stars.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: the price of freedom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173362
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79





	brilliance from inside

**Author's Note:**

> READ THIS  
> there's a small mention of a minor character self harming, nothing graphic, it's just mentioned in passing

Grantaire winced at the cracking of the branch underneath his foot. He was trying his hardest to be silent, but the path to the lake was uneven, even if it had grown familiar. The logical part of his brain said he could very well use his phone’s flashlight, but the temptation to challenge himself to adjust to the darkness was stronger.

Besides, camps were supposed to make you get closer to nature.

There was a sense of calm that came with the knowledge that he knew how close the lake was by the sound of it. Grantaire slipped a cigarette between his lips as he patted his pockets and looked for his lighter.

It wasn’t a particularly loud lake, the waters were mostly still. But the night quiet, quiet like the sound of stifled laughter from children, like bonfires dying down as the adults spoke made the sound of it echo.

Grantaire made a sound of victory when he found his lighter in one of the many, many pockets Jehan had sewn into his jacket, and lit the cigarette. He took a long drag.

He sat at the end of the pier, leaning his elbows on his knees with a sigh. The silence was appreciated after the constant ruckus during the daytime. But silence made his mind all the more loud.

The sudden thud, followed by a disgruntled _oof_ behind him shook him out of his reverie.

“Um, hello?” he said, unsure.

He desperately hoped that it wasn’t a deranged murdered on the loose. Or at least if it was, they would let him finish his cigarette before brutally killing him. Well a murderer would probably not have fallen face first onto the ground, but, hey, Grantaire wasn’t here to judge. But the attacker raised his head, and Grantaire groaned.

Of course it would be the one person in the camp he did not want to interact with, the one person he had been making an active effort to avoid. Hurriedly, he put out his cigarette, hoping Enjolras had not seen it.

“Oh hi,” he could not tell if Enjolras looked embarrassed, but his voice did not carry the surety it always did, “I didn’t realize anyone would be here. I’ll…leave.”

One part of Grantaire’s mind screamed in joy. The other hated how muted Enjolras sounded.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire found himself saying, against the alarmingly loud siren in his head, “There’s plenty of room on this pier for two. Or you know, for a dozen rowdy children.”

Enjolras laughed softly. Softness was not something Grantaire had ever associated with him, but he could hardly be called the leading authority on Enjolras. This was the closest he had ever been to him.

Enjolras sat down beside him, his long legs making it so his bare feet nearly skimmed the water. There was an uncomfortable twist to his mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, and Grantaire absently went over the possibilities of what he would say.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” was certainly not one of them.

“Uh yeah, go ahead,” he said, handing him a lighter.

He watched in silence as Enjolras lit the cigarette with shaky hands. His forehead was creased in a deep v.

“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”

Enjolras snorted. “You don’t even know me, how would you know if I was the ‘smoking type’”

Grantaire laughed nervously. He hadn’t expected Enjolras to remember him, but the little pang of hurt that went through him was definitely anticipated.

“Well I have been coming here for a week now, I’ve never seen you here. Besides-“ he took a fortifying breath, “-we went to high school together.”

Enjolras turned to look at him, and the faint light of the cigarette made his blue eyes look startlingly clear. He was looking right at him, his gaze washing over his face to see if he remembered him. Enjolras’ eyes widened in surprise

“You’re the one who got suspended for painting verses of scripture that spoke about tolerance on the bathroom walls after they denied us gender neutral bathroom bathrooms!”

Grantaire let out a bark of surprised laughter, if there was anything Enjolras could had remembered him for, of course it was that.

“And you’re the student body president who stepped down because you thought the ‘system’ was corrupt. You projected ENJOLRAS ABDICATES on the cafeteria wall. There was confetti.”

“The confetti was biodegradable!” Enjolras said, indignant.

“That- that was definitely my concern, angel.”

“The whole thing was Courfeyrac’s idea, not mine. And that’s not my name.”

Grantaire smiled, “Do you remember mine?”

Enjolras looked startled. “Uh-“

Grantaire cut him off with a snort, “That was a joke, angel, I don’t actually expect you to remember me.”

Enjolras flushed. He did that often, Grantaire recalled. Standing up in the classroom, warm cheeked, toeing the thin line between debate and argument with a bigoted teacher.

“Just because I don’t remember you name, it doesn’t mean I don’t remember you.’’

“Sure.”

“So?”

“So, are you going to tell me your name?”

Grantaire blew smoke lazily, a small smile tugging at his mouth, “No”, he said, “I don’t think I will.”

Enjolras made an indignant noise, dipping his toes in the cool water to splash his foot with it. Grantaire worked on keeping the fondness off his face. This was their first ever real conversation, it made no sense why his stomach was doing gymnastics.

The small bout of silence had brought the pinched look back on his face. It was odd, the combination of white moonlight and the soft orange glow. It cast somber shadows on his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’re right. I don’t smoke as much anymore. Combeferre- I don’t know if you remember him-“

“I do,” Grantaire remembered everyone Enjolras spent his time with.

“He…well, he’s worried about my health, so I’m trying to cut back a bit.”

“What changed today?”

Enjolras leaned forward on his elbows, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I saw a girl-“

“Oooooh,” Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras shot him a glare.

“A _thirteen year old_ girl,” he said, pointedly, and sighed, “She had….scars on her arms.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t want to broach the topic without preparing, you know? I don’t want her to feel attacked. I want her to be comfortable when we talk about it.”

Grantaire thought about his mother finding out what he had done. He thought about her crying and asking him if she had failed as a mother.

“She’s lucky,” he said, softly into the stillness of the night, “She’s lucky to have someone like you concerned for her.”

Enjolras’ smile was a little brittle. “Thank you.”

Xxx

Grantaire was a little disappointed when he was welcomed by the empty pier yet again. It had been a few days since their conversation. He supposed it was irrational to hope that Enjolras would have taken a shine to him now, after not noticing him at all for four years. Something about Enjolras made him want to believe in things like this. That they would get to know each other. That they could be friends, that they could- well, irrational things.

Still, he stuck the cigarette between his lips with a disgruntled sigh. The lake was the best place for angsting anyway. He rubbed the hem of his shorts between his fingers and shivered slightly. It wasn’t as warm at night, he should have worn pants.

“You’re here,” a voice called from behind him.

“Angel,” he couldn’t help the smile that slipped unbidden on his face, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Enjolras’ expression shuttered off.

“Uh, I could leave if you’d prefer your privacy.”

Grantaire felt something lurch in his chest.

“Nonsense, there’s no privacy in this camp. I bet the nosy little shits know the pin on my phone.”

Enjolras smiled and sat down, cross-legged at the very edge of the pier.

“How did it go?” he asked, rubbing his arms to warm himself up.

“How did what go?”

“How did the talk with the girl go, Apollo? You’d think you would be more inclined towards logic and reason.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him, “It was alright, I think. I don’t- I’m not sure. I’m keeping an eye on her.”

Grantaire regarded the intensity on Enjolras’ face quietly. “Why are you here, angel?”

“Not my name,” he snapped, pulling out a cigarette, “I’m here to smoke without Combeferre catching me.”

Grantaire held out the lighter for Enjolras, who leaned forward. He was looking him through his lashes, eyes almost golden in the firelight. Grantaire felt his heart thudding in his throat.

“I meant why are you here, working at the camp.”

Enjolras took a long drag, languidly blowing smoke into the air. There was a beat of echoing silence.

“There is…a lot I want to accomplish in the world. There is so much injustice everywhere, and I could spend a lifetime fighting it and there would still be more.”

He sighed and brought is knees to his chest. “Last month, I got detained after a protest. And hey, it wasn’t terrible. They didn’t hurt me. But the act of dissent is demonized in this country. There is no realistic way for me to fight for what I believe is right and also expect to live a long life. Or a free one.”

There was an inexplicable sadness and awe in Grantaire’s chest, and he resisted the urge to reach out and take Enjolras’ hand in his. He felt a shiver go through him and quietly cursed himself for not bringing a jacket.

“I have come to the realization that the only way to ensure that my effort is not null and void as soon as they find a way to shut me off is to raise a generation who will join the fight. This- this is me trying to teach the kids to fight for what they believe is right, that’s all.”

Grantaire huffed incredulously, “’That’s all’ he says, after giving that speech. A+, angel, your Pol Sci prof will be proud.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened, “How did you know I’m studying Pol Sci.”

Grantaire threw his head back and laughed.

“It isn’t a difficult guess.”

Enjolras glared at him, but it held no heat.

“What about you?” he asked, “Why are you here?”

“Nothing as great or impactful, I promise. I’m just here because Eponine couldn’t get any time off and she was afraid Gavroche would commit arson.”

“And Eponine is you uh,” Enjolras sounded strained, “Girlfriend?”

Grantaire shuddered at that. “God, no. Ep is gorgeous and fierce as hell, but she’s more of a sister to me than my actual sister is.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, voice soft.

His voice was always so soft when he wasn’t in the heat of debate, Grantaire thought idly.

“Gavroche is a nice kid.”

“Yeah tell me that when he tried to wake you up by sticking an entire donut in your mouth.”

Enjolras laughed, and it tinkled merrily in his ears.

“Are you cold?” Enjolras asked, eyeing him carefully.

Grantaire could already see him shedding his coat. He was certain he would instantly combust if he wore Enjolras’ clothes.

“No, nope, I’m toasty as fuck.”

Enjolras huffed, holding his jacket out, “Don’t be stubborn, you’re shivering.”

Enjolras leaned over, taking the cigarette out of his hands. Grantaire valiantly did not make a nose when their fingers brushed together.

Xxx

The sound of Enjolras shuffling unsteadily through the dirt path to the lake was a familiar sound to Grantaire, now. But it put a smile on his face regardless.

He was lying flat on the pier, his legs dangling off the end.

“Ah, mon ange, join me,” he said, cheerfully.

Enjolras’ face softened. For once, his hair was out of the bun he kept it in. It fell around his face in wisps. He lay down next to him, hair splayed behind him like a halo.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, making Grantaire turn to him.

It always threw him off completely, how Enjolras always looked at him as though he was seeing him completely, piercing through every carefully layered façade. He was not sure if scared him or thrilled him.

“Yes, Apollo?”

Enjolras looked right at him, “Why don’t you ever say my name?”

Grantaire looked back at the sky. He could not take the intensity of Enjolras’ gaze any longer. The silence surrounded them like a weighted blanket. It would have been comforting if it wasn’t so _much._

“Have you heard of Rainer Maria Rilke?”

Enjolras hummed in assent.

Grantaire thought of Enjolras, standing by the lake during the day wasting to time to shed his shirt and jump into the water every ill-advised camper who never learned to swim. He thought of the sun glinting off of his shoulders. He thought of Enjolras in freshman year, who had not quite hit the growth spurt that would leave him towering over his classmates, with a black eye, staring straight at the senior who had punched him.

Grantaire’s voice was terribly gentle when it said, “We cannot know his legendary head, with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso, is still suffused with brilliance from inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low, gleams in all its power.”

He inhaled shakily, “Otherwise this stone would seem defaced, beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur: would not, from all the borders of itself, burst like a star: for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.”

“I-“ Enjolras began unsteadily, “I don’t-“

He made a noise that was halfway between frustration and hurt.

Enjolras sat up, setting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. “I’m not-“

“Hey,” Grantaire said, carefully, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m ace,” Enjolras said. He had a defiant set to his chin, one Grantaire knew he always had when he thought he would have to argue his point.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, feeling horror and realization setting in, “I’m not trying to _fuck_ you.”

Enjolras flinched violently. He turned his head away from Grantaire. His breath was coming out unsteady.

“Hey, you’re my _friend,_ ” Grantaire’s voice was impossibly soft.

Enjolras made a terrible choking noise and Grantaire started forward, touching his arm. Enjolras leaned in to the touch.

“Enj, hey, come here,” he wrapped an arm around Enjolras, allowing him to tuck his head on his shoulder.

Grantaire rubbed his arm gently, and Enjolras shuddered.

“What does R stand for?”

“Huh?”

“I heard the kids calling you R. What is R short for?”

Grantaire laughed. “Robespierre.”

Enjolras smacked his knee lightly, “Stop kidding around.”

“Would you like me better if I wasn’t kidding?”

Enjolras pause, turning to look up at him with an open, fond look. Grantaire gulped.

“I like you just fine. “

Grantaire could feel his neck heading up as he fought to keep the smile off his face. Enjolras far too close to his neck, he was certain he could feel how hot his neck had gotten.

“R?” Enjolras said, and Grantaire felt something twist inside him at the use of his nickname.

“Yes, mon ange?”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

He let out a short laugh. “What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a favorite. I find constellations too…constricting.”

Granatire smiled as he went on. “Don’t get me wrong, I love how human being are so endlessly creative that they will find patterns and stories in everything. But to me, to define it is to limit. When I see the sky I want it to be full of potential to change.”

Grantaire closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly. He could _not_ kiss Enjolras, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I should get back.”

Enjolras pulled away as Grantaire stood. Just as he was about to leave he felt Enjolras grab his wrist.

“What’s your name, R?”

Grantaire grinned. “Rilke.”

Enjolras made a noise of protest. Grantaire allowed himself to be brave and rubbed his thumb along Enjolras’ pulse point. “I have to keep the mystery alive somehow, Apollo.”

It wasn’t until Grantaire got back to his bunk that he realized he had not smoked at all.

Xxx

“Gavroche, can’t this wait?”

Gavroche made a noise that might as well have translated to _of course not, you buffoon._

He dragged him along until he met up with a small group of kids. And Enjolras. Of course he was here. Grantaire had grown used to seeing Enjolras in the pale moonlight in the past few months, but he had a different kind of brilliance in the sun. He felt a little blinded.

“Did you drag him here?”

“You’re the one who was so insistent that R should come!” Gavroche whined, “Why did you want him here anyway? Oh my god do you have a crush on him?”

Enjolras was blushing furiously. Grantaire wasn’t sure if it was the situation or the heat, but he felt sure he was going to pass out. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came.

“I do not have crush on him,” Enjolras said, very emphatically, with flaming cheeks.

Gavroche was grinning. “If you’re wondering, R is definitely into blonds. Remember tha-“

“Gav,” Grantaire found his voice, a little croaky, “Do you want me to tell Azelma what really happened to her purple shoes?”

“Oh look,” Gavroche said, his voice awfully high, “I see a bird.”

Grantaire smiled as he skittered off.

“We’re going on a hike,” Enjolras said, “You should come with us.”

Enjolras was tugging at the ponytail his hair was put in, and Grantaire felt a flood of fondness grow through him.

“Sure, why not.”

Xxx

Enjolras’ head was on his shoulder. This was just how they sat now, in the quiet, by the lake. The moon cast fair reflections on the lake as they shared a cigarette.

“Do you like animals, R?”

“Huh?” Grantaire snapped out of his reverie, “Oh yeah I love animals. I have a cat.”

“What’s it called?”

Grantaire faltered and tried not to sound too amused at his own broken sense of humor. “Um…Meowchelangelo.”

“No,” Enjolras said, taking his head off his shoulder only to look at him incredulously.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Do you actually…call him that?”

“Only when I’m mad at him. Otherwise he responds to Angelo. Or Angie,” Grantaire said, “Or bastard.”

Enjolras’ eyes softened. Slowly, he linked their hands.

“Only you, R.”

Xxx

The crackling of dying fire, Grantaire thought, was one of his favorite sounds in the world. There was a slight melancholy in the air, that he knew came from the knowledge that it would be the last night so many of them saw each other.

Enjolras sat apart from the group, his face drawn with worry. As the people said their goodbyes and left, one by one, thinning the crowd, Grantaire watched Enjolras, who seemed oblivious to it all. It was late, the children were in their bunks. The adults were milling about, reluctant to go to bed.

Grantaire moved closer to Enjolras.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Enjolras raised his head, eyes widening at the intrusion.

“It’s nothing.”

“Enj, come on, it’s the last night, I’m not going to let you brood alone.”

Enjolras laughed, and it sounded horribly sad.

“I just- this was meant to be a break for me. From the constant struggle of fighting for a better world, you know. And just, some days are just bad days.”

Enjolras sounded resigned, and Grantaire hated how resignation sounded in his voice. He took his hand and squeezed it.

“I know, Enjolras. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

Enjolras smile wryly. “I just hate knowing that anything I do dies when I die. Unless I make some grand public statement. And that isn’t what I stand for at all.”

Grantaire was quiet for a moment.

“Did you know that The Last Supper wasn’t painted on a canvas? It was painted on wall.”

Enjolras cocked his head, silently asking him to continue.

“The painting was done directly on the wall of the dining room of the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie. It did not endure the way canvas, or fresco for that matter, did. It got shaken by the bombs in World War II. It came so close to ruination so many times. You know why it’s still standing? Because it was loved. Because people were so touched by it that they never stopped trying to keep that legacy alive.”

“My point is, Enjolras, some of the most beautiful things in life, some of the most moving things in life were not made to outlast a lifetime. They are kept alive by love. I promise you, centuries from now, people will still be so moved by you that they will tell your story, over and over, in a million different ways.”

Enjolras was watching him, eyes wide and a little wet. His face was completely open.

“R?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Grantaire was moving before he knew it. He took Enjolras’ face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks, and pressed his lips to his.

He could feel his stomach swooping. He could feel Enjolras’ damp lashes against his skin. He was breathless.

He broke free.

“Grantaire.”

“Huh?”

“My name,” he said, “My name is Grantaire.”

Enjolras laughed breathlessly and pressed his face into his neck.

Xxx

Grantaire walked with Enjolras and Combeferre to the entrance of the camp, Gavroche frolicking a little way ahead.

Gavroche had swung himself full force at Eponine, which did not come as a surprise. What did come as a surprise was the grown adult man who had done the same to Enjolras and Combeferre.

“Courf, I missed you to but let go, good god,” Combeferre muttered.

Right, Grantaire thought, of course it was Coufeyrac.

“Oh my god is that Enjolras Abdicated?” Eponine yelled, jogging towards them.

“Does everyone from high school remember me that way?”

“Well,” Grantaire said, “There was confetti.”

“The confetti was biodegradable,” Courfeyrac chimed.

Grantaire laughed lightly. When he looked at Enjolras, his gaze was already on him. Firm and fond.

He tugged him forward by his belt loop, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Have dinner with me? 7, I’ll pick you up,” Enjolras whispered.

“Sure,” he replied, pretending he could not feel Eponine’s shocked gaze on the side of his face.

“I’ll see you then,” Enjolras beamed, “Grantaire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like this?  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated <33


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